


Cardinals

by LadyRa



Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-15
Updated: 2013-08-15
Packaged: 2017-12-23 13:31:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/927033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyRa/pseuds/LadyRa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The soil Galadriel gave Sam has some unexpected side effects.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cardinals

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place in March of 1420, when Sam is helping rebuild the Shire. AU in that when Frodo gets sick in March, Sam is around and wishes he knew how to mend him. And then it goes even more AU. LOL. Oh, and cardinals mate for life according to wiki, so I'm going with that, because wiki never lies.
> 
>  

_"Cheer up, Sam, cheer up!"_

"That's not likely to happen, is it," Sam remarked morosely, "when Mr. Frodo's ailin' in bed and there's naught I can do. I'm as useful as a moldy bag of potatoes, is what I am."

He patted a little extra fertilized dirt around the crab apple tree, noting the fallen petals on the ground and trying not to let them depress him any further.

That was when he furrowed his brow and gave a thought as to who had spoken. As far as he remembered, and while it was true he was a good one for woolgathering, especially about Frodo, Sam thought he'd have noticed if someone had joined him.

Sitting back on his haunches, he glanced around and, as expected, saw no one. He glared up at the tree, fully expecting to see one of the Boffin or Goodbody children staring down at him, but all he saw was a cardinal. "Well, bless me, Mr. Cardinal, aren't you lookin' as pretty as a picture?" And he was; he was as red as a prize winning tomato, and a smile slipped onto Sam's face in admiration. It was his particular favorite, if he was seeing right, because, and maybe it was a fancy, but this particular cardinal always seemed to have a friendly chirp for Mr. Frodo whenever he was near. "Where's your missus?"

The cardinal's bill opened, and Sam was sure he'd hear a series of chirps, but instead, he heard, _"Cheer up, Sam! We can help you."_

Stunned, Sam stared at the bird. A year ago, before his adventure with Frodo, Sam would have thought he was losing his mind. But a year with his life in danger, coming face-to-face with awe-inspiring and terrifying sights that both filled his soul and kept him awake at night with his heart pounding, had taught him to keep an open mind. "Hello?" he said, cautiously. "Pardon my asking, but how is this happening and what exactly are you?" Sam got a good grip on his shovel, just in case.

_"You know me, Sam, you've fed me and my family for years."_

"I thought it was you," Sam countered cautiously, "but we haven't exactly been on speaking terms, if you take my meaning."

The cardinal let out several chirps that sounded like laughter to Sam's ears. "It's the _mallorn_ tree, Sam. Elven magic grown strong with the magic of your heart."

"Magic?" Sam asked in wonder. "How?"

_"We've been eating from the mallorn and, this morning, I could suddenly understand you."_

"Well, ain't that a wonder?" Sam said, astonished.

_"Go open your Mr. Frodo's window, Sam, we want to give him a gift."_

"Mr. Frodo?" Sam asked, suddenly annoyed with himself that he'd been out mucking about in the garden when he should have been checking on Frodo. Some friend he was, he chastised himself. It was just so hard to see him ailing, clutching at his white gem, his face pale and tight with pain. "Can you help him?" he asked, a wild hope blooming inside of him. "Can the magic help him?"

_"Open his window."_ The cardinal flew to Sam's shoulder, his tiny talons clutching at Sam's striped cotton sweater vest.

Sam made haste to the back door, pausing for only a moment, remembering with pleasure that Frodo had asked him to move in with him, that this could be his home, too. But then he recalled the reason he was here and despite the wonder of it, anxiety nagged at him. "Hang tight, Mr. Cardinal, sir, but sometimes, when I get this close, I'm suddenly full of fear that he won't be all right when I get there." And, with that, Sam raced to Frodo’s room and pushed open the door.

He'd expected to see Frodo lying in bed, just as he’d left him but, instead, he was sitting up, the most curious expression on his face, as he stared at the window. He turned when Sam came in. "Sam, it's the most peculiar thing." He halted for a moment as his gaze took in Sam's red visitor still holding on for all he was worth. Frodo's eyes opened comically wide. "You've got a cardinal on your shoulder."

"That I do, Mr. Frodo, and excuse me for saying it, but you look like you're feeling better."

"I do, although I can't tell you why, but look, Sam, look at the window."

Sam could barely stand to pull his gaze from Frodo; his eyes were bright, and a mischievous smile, one of Sam's favorites, was hovering on his lips. But Frodo wanted him to look, so look he would. His eyes opened just as wide when he saw the window. Sam had built a birdfeeder out there a few weeks ago, hoping the birds hopping and tweeting as they bickered with each other for a morsel of seed would cheer Frodo up.

But this, this. "Lor' bless," Sam said. There must have been fifty birds out there, all jockeying for position to peer in the window, chirping their little hearts out. As soon as Sam was paying attention, he noticed that they were all cheeping his name. "Sam! Sam! Let us in! Sam! We want to help! Sam! Let us help!" and dozens of other phrases all meaning the same thing.

"Shall I open the window?" Sam asked.

"I think you must," Frodo answered. "I sense a bit of magic in this, don't you?"

Just for the excited expression on his face, Sam could have kissed each and every one of those cardinals. _"Open the window,"_ the one on his shoulder said again.

"Promise me you don't mean him no harm," Sam asked quietly. He knew better, but he had to ask. He wouldn't risk Frodo for anything.

"What did you say?" Frodo asked.

"Nothing, Mr. Frodo," Sam replied a little absentmindedly, his eyes still taken with the cacophony of chirping and the equivalent of a bird mob right outside the window. "I was just talking to Mr. Cardinal here."

"Why does that not surprise me at all?" Frodo asked, a broad grin on his face.

That completely derailed Sam. There was his Mr. Frodo, so beautiful, smiling at him. Sam found himself smiling back.

_"We promise,"_ chirped the cardinals. _"Let us in! We want to help! Sam! Sam! Let us in!"_

"Open the window, Sam," and this time it was Frodo giving him the order, so Sam had to obey, and he crossed the room and, carefully, so as to not send a cardinal to the ground topsy-turvy, opened the window. In seconds the birds were all in the room, flying around, chirping madly, landing on the bed, the desk, the chair, a few brave ones landing on the covers over Frodo's feet and knees. The down comforter was white, and it looked like a field of snow dotted with red birds and it made Sam think of winter, but in a good way, the way late blooming flowers and leaves still turned yellow, and red, and purple showed up so pretty underneath a freshly fallen early snowfall. Many of the birds, to Sam's embarrassment, landed on him. They were on his head, his shoulders, a few hanging off the clothes covering his chest and stomach.

Frodo laughed. "Oh, Sam, if you could only see yourself. You look like Tom Bombadil himself." He patted the bed next to him. "Join me. Sit."

Sam had spent last night in this very bed, at Frodo's request, and his own to be honest, because he'd wanted to make sure he didn't miss it if Frodo needed something. But it was a whole different kettle of fish with Frodo laughing and so fine-looking as to steal Sam's breath, patting the bed and tendering an invitation. It made Sam think of things he knew he oughtn't. But it also wasn't in him to say no to anything Frodo asked him, so with his heart beating out a fast rhythm, he gingerly sat on the bed, trying not to unseat any of their little red-coated guests.

"What's happened?" Frodo asked him. "I know you're in the thick of it, as the cardinals seem to think you're better than a bird feeder."

Sam couldn't help but take Frodo's hand; he was that glad to see Frodo looking so lively. "Mr. Cardinal here," he said, gesturing at the bird still in pride of place, sitting on his left shoulder, "says it's magic. That the _mallorn_ has given them the gift of speech and understanding of man's ways. That's all I know."

The cardinal nipped at his ear. _"It wouldn't have happened without you, Sam,"_ he scolded.

"I swear he's yelling at you," Frodo said in wonder. "Is he talking to you?"

"Yes, Mr. Frodo, he is. They all are."

"How wonderful!" Color in his cheeks, looking more animated than he had for days, Frodo stared around the room, at the bright splash of color all the red birds brought to the room, like a joyful spray of red paint. "What are they saying?"

"Not much now," Sam said, but then Mr. Cardinal bit him again. "Ow, let off, you pesky creature," he demanded.

_"Tell him it was you, too. It's part of the magic that he understands that."_

Sam could feel himself blushing, but Frodo was staring at him with expectant eyes. With a sigh, Sam said, "He says to tell you that part of the magic was me." He scrunched his face up. "But I don't see how. All I did was plant the thing. If anythin' it was the soil the Lady gave me that added the magic."

"Oh, Sam, you did so much more than that," Frodo said, squeezing Sam's fingers. "It's your love and tender care that is helping to rebuild the Shire, and helped the _mallorn_ grow straight and tall, and that allowed us to harvest the most extraordinary fruits and vegetables that you tempt me with every day. So please let your feathery friend know that I am very aware of the magic of your heart, I always have been. And tell him to stop biting you, as I'm quite partial to all of you."

Sam's head was humming with how red his face was now; he was sure he matched the cardinals in color, but Frodo's words were just as warming to his insides as his outsides. But it was important he correct one thing Frodo had said. "It's you, too, Mr. Frodo. If I have any magic at all, it's because of you."

Frodo smiled at Sam, touching his cheek with his free hand, laughing when Mr. Cardinal let out a series of cheeps that sounded as if he heartily approved of all these going-ons. "You just have no idea, do you, of how special you are."

Sam thought if he blushed any more his head would explode. To change the subject, he repeated what he'd been told. "They have a gift for you." He gestured at the cardinal on his shoulder and then at the others. "But I don't know what it is."

"Maybe it's you," Frodo guessed, his gaze still on Sam.

"You already have me," Sam said simply. It was no more than the truth.

"Do I?"

"Can you possibly doubt that?" Frodo's smile grew a little sad, and it made Sam's heart clutch in his chest. "Do you doubt it?" Sam asked, wondering where he'd gone wrong to leave room for uncertainty.

"No, Sam, no!" Frodo cried. "Not for an instant. Forgive me, it just seems as if I'm never satisfied. You see, I'm greedy for your company, greedy for all of you that you'll give me."

"Everything I am is yours," Sam said. "Everything."

Frodo's smile still held a hint of melancholy, but his eyes finally left Sam and took in the birds again. "What type of gift do you suppose they meant?"

"What happens now?" Sam asked Mr. Cardinal, holding his hand out carefully so the cardinal could step onto it. It made speaking to him easier when Sam brought the hand up so they were eye to eye, so to speak. "What's this gift of yours?"

_"First Frodo needs to rest, and then we will give him his gift."_

Sam communicated this to Frodo, and it made him frown. "As if I could sleep now! I feel like a little lad waiting for Yule." But putting the lie to his words, Frodo suddenly yawned. Sighing, his eyelids at half mast, he said softly, "Will you lay down with me, Sam? I think I could sleep if you stay here with me."

They had to unsettle some of the birds, but the cardinals seemed to take the reshuffling in good humor, settling someplace new, waiting patiently, their eyes on Sam and Frodo. "It's like Saruman's crows, but completely different," Sam said. Then he unexpectedly found his arms full of Frodo, as he nestled into Sam.

As if he were holding the most important thing in the entire world, which he was, Sam closed his arms around Frodo, his heart so full it almost brought tears to his eyes. He could die happy right now, he thought to himself. Not that he wouldn't rather stay alive, of course, and he found himself kissing the top of Frodo's head just for the joy of being alive in this particular moment.

For a long time after that, Sam lay there, feeling the rise and fall of Frodo's chest with his breathing and wishing he could hold Frodo like this every night. After a while, he said, very softly, "What are you giving him?"

_"A dream,"_ Mr. Cardinal said, who was back on Sam's shoulder. _"A healing dream."_

Another spike of hope shafted through Sam. "Will it heal him? For real?"

_"It will start him on the path to healing. We will do what we can, but much of it will be up to you."_

"What do I need to do?"

_"Give him something to live for."_

"Like what?"

The cardinal nipped his ear again, and wouldn't say another word.

* * *

When it seemed as if Frodo had no intention of waking up from his nap anytime soon, Sam finally got up, leaving Frodo to the well-intentioned care of the cardinals. He wouldn't stay away for long, but he needed to get supper started. It would hardly do to get Frodo well-rested and then starve him. He also needed to put his tools away in the shed or his gaffer would have his hide. "A gardener's only as good as his tools," he'd been told more times than Sam could remember, often enough that Sam would toss and turn in bed if he’d left any of his tools laying out in the dirt.

He stood in the bedroom doorway, though, for a very long time, impressing the scene on his mind so he could tell Frodo all about it. This was one for the red book for sure. The cardinals were all staring at Frodo, all of them, with not a chirp among them. It might have made Sam uneasy, but Frodo was smiling as he lay there sleeping, looking so young and happy, it put a lump in Sam's throat standing there and watching.

Finally he forced himself away and went outside to put his tools back where they belonged, taking a moment to pick some spinach and a few asparagus spears from the garden.

Once inside he busied himself in the kitchen preparing the ingredients for a chicken pot pie. He was chopping potatoes when there was a knock on the back door. Sam looked through the window and then opened the door with a smile. "Jolly, what brings you by? How are all the Cottons this evening?"

"Everyone's fine, Sam," Jolly said. "But Rosie sent me 'round to remind you that you was comin' for dinner." His brows furrowed at all of Sam's dinner preparations.

"Bless me, I completely forgot," Sam said apologetically. "I can't come tonight, Jolly. Will you give my apologies to your sister? Mr. Frodo needs me here."

"Seems like Mr. Frodo always needs you."

"That's enough out of you," Sam said sternly. "You got no cause to be stickin' your nose anywhere around Bag End and Mr. Frodo’s business."

Jolly scrunched his face up, but he didn't say anything more. "Rosie won't like it."

Sam knew that well enough; Rosie didn't like it when he spent so much time over here, but that couldn't be helped. "I'll make it up to her. Now, scoot, so I can finish dinner."

Jolly gave the kitchen a once-over as if looking for something to chew on during his trek home. Sam grinned and gave him a muffin. "There's something for your troubles. Now be on your way."

After a bite, an appreciative eye-roll, and a crumb-spewed farewell, Jolly left Bag End, leaving Sam to his own devices. He spared a minute for Rosie, remembering how Frodo had told him to marry her and move her into Bag End, too, but it hadn't set right with Sam, even if he didn't know why. He hadn’t even asked Rosie to marry him yet. He kept meaning to, but then he kept not getting the job done.

"Come on, Samwise," he told himself, "dinner won't cook itself," and went back to his cooking.

* * *

Frodo was flying. He knew he was dreaming, but the flying felt so real, arms outstretched to his side, the wind streaming by his face but also supporting his body. He could feel the chill in the air and the wisps of moisture clinging to his skin.

He was a little cold, but he didn't care. He'd always wished he could fly as a young lad, and maybe this was just a dream, but he was flying! He looked to the left and right of him, saw a multitude of small red birds keeping him company, chirping encouragement.

One cardinal was sitting on his shoulder. "Tired?" Frodo asked him with a grin. "If anyone else wants a rest, tell them to hop aboard." Even all of them together couldn't weigh but a few pounds in total.

_"They are helping you fly,"_ the cardinal said. _"I will speak with you."_

Delighted, Frodo said, "Are you Sam's Mr. Cardinal?"

_"I am."_

"I’m pleased to meet you, then, as he is very fond of you, and often points you out to speak of you."

_"Sam is our favorite of humans,"_ Mr. Cardinal said.

Frodo laughed. "He is my favorite of humans, too." How he loved Sam. Sam who said he was Frodo's in all ways, but not in the way Frodo truly wanted him. Not when there was Rosie, and a wedding to be planned.

Similarly to how he bit Sam, Mr. Cardinal nipped at his cheek.

"Ow!" Frodo said. "What did you do that for?"

_"Why do you not speak to him of your desires?"_

Frodo didn't want to talk about it anymore. But inside he knew it was because Sam would do anything for him, but this, this one thing, had to be because Sam wanted it, not Frodo.

_"Look below."_

Obeying, Frodo glanced below, saw a large knoll covered with green. There were several bonfires to hold off the chill, even if it was still day outside, and even from where he was above them, Frodo could hear the songs and laughter. "Where is that?"

_"It is Amon Sûl."_

Frodo's left chest and shoulder suddenly hurt, as if reliving the moment when one of the Nazgûl thrust a morgul-blade into him.

He was nipped again. _"Look. What do you see?"_

Looking closer, Frodo noticed they were somehow hovering over the site. "It's green, and the trees are blooming, and there are spots of flowers. There are people there. Men."

_"What do you see?"_

Frodo's memories of this place, even before getting injured were filled with fear and exhaustion. It had been dark and craggy with little sign of life. It had been nothing but a dead rock. So much of what they had seen on their journey had been dead, all the life sucked out of it by the evil seeping over the world. He noticed some small furtive movement and, as if his eyesight equaled a hawk’s, he spied a rabbit nibbling on a blade of clover. "It's alive again."

_"It's alive again,"_ Mr. Cardinal chirped as if sharing glad tidings. _"You did this, Frodo."_

"All I did was get stabbed here," Frodo told him bitterly.

_"This was but a part of your journey. But you destroyed the ring. You brought life back to Middle-Earth."_

Frodo let out a mirthless laugh. "You weren't there at the end. I would have sacrificed it all for power." He hadn't told many people this--Sam, Gandalf, and neither of them saw it as the massive betrayal Frodo did. It soured all of it for him. All the cheers and parades and gratitude were like grinding salt in the wound of his great failure.

_"Frodo,"_ Mr. Cardinal said, carefully, _"you do not have the right of it. You do not know what might have happened next because Gollum took the decision away from you. Do you really think a moment's temptation, even if you succumbed for an instant, undoes all the sacrifices you made? You would have destroyed the ring."_

"Sam said the same thing," Frodo admitted.

_"And if you hadn't, do you really think Sam would have let you walk out of there to live a life of evil?"_

Frodo hadn't thought of that. Well, he had, but it had been a fearful thought, that Sam, in his love for Frodo, might have walked next to him as he chose to rule them all. That Frodo would have corrupted Sam's heart and soul because Frodo had been too weak to be strong for both of them.

He got gently nipped again. _"Sam would have stopped you. Do you really think him so weak as to stand by as you destroyed yourself? He'd have seen you both dead first."_

That was an arresting thought. Sam was the least weak person he knew. He was so strong, and so true, and he understood right from wrong in a way few people did. It was as clear to him as left from right, or up from down.

_"If you cannot have faith in yourself, can you have faith in Sam? Together, you would have seen it done, even if Gollum hadn't been there."_

Frodo so wanted to believe that. Even if it had meant their deaths, better that than to surrender to the power of the ring.

_"You and Sam. Do you understand? It was you and Sam, together. Not two people, but one. United. The two of you cannot fail. When one is weak, the other is strong."_

Frodo didn't remember everything about those last few days; there were holes in his memory. But he remembered Sam. Sam, the sun to his darkness, the water to his desert, Sam, holding him, carrying him, encouraging him, soldiering on when all hope was gone, and then him and Sam, holding each other at the end of all things. Him and Sam.

_"You and Sam. Together. You stopped the evil. You have made Middle-earth come alive again."_

Him and Sam. They had done it. He and Sam had taken the ring to Mordor and, no matter the vehicle through which it was done, they had succeeded. They had done it.

_"It was your heart that saved Gollum from being killed,"_ the cardinal said. _"Your pity that stayed multiple hands from slaying him. So it was from your heart that he was there to play his part."_

Frodo began to cry, but it wasn't the bitter tears he'd been crying. Instead he found himself sobbing, gulping in huge breaths, crying for them all, for all the sadness and death, for Sam, for himself. Most especially for him and Sam, for what they'd gone through, the tears long overdue.

* * *

When someone knocked on the door again, Sam saw it was Rosie herself, looking not best-pleased.  
  
Sam winced a little as he slid the pot pies into the oven. "Hello, Rosie love."

"Samwise Gamgee," she scolded. "I'd like an explanation. You've been missing this entire week, and the only reason I hear is that Mr. Frodo needs you."

"He does," Sam insisted. "He's doing poorly right now."

"I understand that," Rosie said, "but do you have to be here every second? He's a grown hobbit."

That was true enough, but Sam knew Frodo needed him to be here, and even if he didn't, Sam needed to be here. When something was going on with one of them, both of them had to be in on it. That was just the way it was. "Rosie, I'm sorry, but I have to be here."

Rosie nodded, a look of sadness crossing her face. "You love him, don't you?"

Sam smiled; he was on firmer ground with this. "I do. More than anything."

"More than anything?" Rosie prodded. "More than me?"

Sam blinked at her. "Well, now, I've done it good and proper, and stuck both feet in my mouth," Sam said with a sheepish smile.

"No, you haven't, Sam," Rosie said. "You've just been honest, just as you always are. My honest Sam, taking life on exactly as it comes to you, and never wishing it was something else."

Sam didn't think that was true. There were a hundred and one ways he'd wished the last year or so had gone. But he supposed he got her meaning. Life was what it was, and fighting it didn't get you anywhere. You just had to keep putting one foot in front of the other and get the job done. "You know I love you, lass. I do."

"But not more than Mr. Frodo." It wasn't a question.

Sam was going to say it was a different sort of love, but it wasn't really. He could easily see himself spending his life with Rosie, having lots of children and happily living his life in the Shire. But Sam could also see himself living with Frodo having a different sort of life. And he wasn't sure the Shire was the place for Frodo, not for always, and Sam wasn't about to let him go off on any more adventures without his Samwise. He was torn in two, but he guessed the slightly bigger half, maybe more than slightly, was with the hobbit sleeping in the bedroom.

He supposed his silence was answer enough, because Rosie had tears in her eyes. "So that's it?" she said. "After all this time? After I waited for you not even knowing if you were coming back?"

"I never meant no harm to you," he said sadly. "Never." And he'd never made any promises, either. He'd been too shy to barely smile at her before he left, and he'd only danced with her because Frodo had pushed them together. That night seemed a thousand years ago, and he felt as far from that Sam as spring from autumn. And since he’d been back, he’d been too busy working on the Shire and taking care of Frodo. "I do love you, Rosie, that weren't a lie, and there might yet be a time for us, but it's not right now. I'm sorry, lass, I am, but you're right to see it, Frodo comes first for me."

"So you won't care if I get me a husband?" she asked with some defiance in her voice.

"It'll be a lucky hobbit who gets you for a wife, Rosie Cotton, make no mistake. And there'll be a part of me always wishing it had been me."

That seemed to knock the wind out of her, and she studied him, biting her lip. "I suppose that's some consolation," she admitted. "I just don't understand what happened to you. To him. Why he's so important to you now, more than he was before?"

"I can barely explain it myself. He's just…" Sam sighed, struggling to put it to words. "It's just somethin' I know inside of me, that we're stronger together, and we're not done being strong yet. I know that don't make much sense." A cardinal Sam didn't recognize flew into the kitchen and landed on Sam's shoulder. _"Frodo needs you, Sam."_

"All right," he told the cardinal. "I'll be right in."

The cardinal seemed to bob its head at Sam, and then flew off back toward the bedroom.

Rosie was blinking at him. "Why did that bird just fly in here?"

“To tell me Frodo needs me.”

Rosie blinked again. “It spoke to you?”

Oh. Sam scrunched his face up. “It’s naught but a bit of magic, nothing to be scared of.” Sam might as well fess up, because this wouldn’t be the only time someone saw him talking to one of the cardinals, assuming the magic lasted, and he wasn’t going to be rude and ignore them just because someone might think it odd.

Rosie looked a confusing mix of a dozen emotions, and Sam couldn’t begin to follow them. "I don't rightly know what’s happened to you since you were gone,” she finally said, “but I can see some of it in your eyes. It's the same look I see in your Mr. Frodo's eyes, like a far-seeing, like you see things the rest of us don't." Rosie gave him an assessing look. "I suspect you've got some wandering to do yet before you settle down, especially if you’ve got birds talking to you now.”

"I’m not the same as I was," Sam admitted, not forgetting that he'd been called in to see after Frodo, "although adventurin' always seems nicer when you're talking about it in a comfy chair after second breakfast, with some good leaf in your pipe." He took a step toward the bedroom.

"That might be, but if your Mr. Frodo goes adventurin', I suspect you'll be right beside him."

"That I will," Sam said firmly, taking another step. "He needs tendin', and that's the truth."

As if she understood something so much more clearly now, something Sam did not, she nodded, a wise woman look on her face that Sam had often seen on his own ma's. It held a bit of resignation, but also the determination of a decision made. She squeezed his hand, holding it for a moment. "I’m not sure I want a husband who’ll be off at a moment’s notice, so perhaps this is for the best. So go, and take care of your Mr. Frodo."

"I will. I always do." He smiled tightly. "Sometimes, Rosie, I think it was what I was made for and that's a fact." He knew she couldn’t really understand, but she hadn't crawled over rocks hot enough to blister your hands and knees, and drank mud water and eaten dried out crack-your-teeth _lembas_ to survive one more dreadful day. She hadn't fought the battle, the ferocious, horrible, terrible, and most wondrous battle Frodo had and come out the victor. She didn't understand that Frodo was revered of kings and all the realms, that there were songs sung to him. None of the people here truly understood what he had done for them. But Sam knew.

She looked like she had more to say, but Sam was taking another step. He couldn't stop himself, even knowing how rude he was being. His ma would have taken him by the ear and swatted his rear end if she was here.

"Go," she told him, a resigned smile on her face.

And he went. When Sam got there, Frodo was sobbing his heart out. "Frodo, my dear Frodo!" Sam cried out, glaring at the cardinals, shooing them away as he crawled into bed and pulled Frodo close. "You promised me you wouldn't hurt him none," he said sternly. "What do you call this?"

Mr. Cardinal hopped onto Sam's hip. _"Trust me, Sam. He's fine. He needed to cry; he had too much sorrow bottled up."_

Frodo latched onto Sam, holding him tightly, and Sam rocked him as he cried, trying to understand. "Are you all right?" he whispered to Frodo.

Nodding against his chest, Frodo got out a watery and stammering, "Y-y-yes," before dissolving into tears again.

There wasn't much for Sam to do but hold him, so hold him he did, rocking him some more, and laying small kisses on his temple and the top of his head, telling him that his Sam was here, that he wasn't going anywhere.

After a while, and the hungry part of Sam hoped it was in time to save the pot pies, Frodo stopped crying, and he lay limply in Sam's arms, a short sob catching his breath every now and then, his nose sniffling.  
  
Sam pulled out his handkerchief and handed it over to Frodo who noisily blew his nose.

"Better?" Sam asked.

Frodo nodded.

"Think you could eat? And then, if you want, you can tell me what happened?"

Frodo nodded again. Then he glanced at the cardinal still managing to maintain his perch on Sam's hip. "Thank you," he said softly. "Thank all of you."

The cardinal bobbed his whole body in what Sam thought was a very courtly bow. The bird cocked his head at Sam. _"He needs you."_

"He has me."

_"You mustn't leave him."_

"Not even to get the pot pies out of the oven?" Sam asked.

He never thought a cardinal could shoot someone a look, but this cardinal sure could. _"Sam, heed my words. Your magic protects him."_

"My magic?" Sam protested. "I'm the same as I ever was. Magic, indeed," he muttered.

"Oh, Sam," Frodo said, and Sam looked down at him to see he'd been listening to Sam's side of the conversation. Not that he could help it seeing as it was taking place right in front of him.

Sam stared down at Frodo, taking in his puffy eyes, and red nose, and tear-stained cheeks, and thought he'd never been lovelier. Despite the puffiness, his eyes were also clear, and there was a hint of delight there, as if he were about to pull a prank on Merry and Pippin and couldn't wait to tell Sam all about it, or more like to somehow get Sam blamed for it.

"How I love you," Frodo said, one hand coming up to cup Sam's cheek.

A rush of feeling swept over Sam from his head down to his toes making him feel lightheaded.

"May I ask you something?" Frodo asked.

"You can ask me anything."

"At Mordor, when I decided to keep the ring, if Gollum hadn't been there, what would have happened?"

"You would have fought the temptation and won," Sam said without a second's hesitation.  
  
"And if I hadn't?"

"You would have."

"And if I hadn't?" Frodo asked again.

Sam bit the corner of his mouth and said unhappily, "I don't like to think about that time, and all the what ifs."

"I know, Sam," Frodo said, using his hand on Sam's cheek to keep their eyes on each other, "but I need you to."

Despite Frodo’s hand, Sam jerked his head away, looking out the window, at the long row of birds posed there, silently watching them, occasionally dipping their heads for a seed or two. "Don't make me talk about it, please." His eyes felt hot and heavy with the sting of tears, and he could hardly swallow around the lump in his throat. Too many of his nightmares covered just this thing, and they were the ones that woke Sam up with his heart thrashing against his rib cage. "Don't."

"Please, Sam."

Sam closed his eyes, swallowing, trying to pull himself together. Sam Gamgee, he scolded himself, it's not like it happened. It's just ghost stories he's wanting to hear. Don't be such a scaredy cat. He blew out a breath, finally saying, "I suppose, if you had decided to keep the ring, well, then, I'd have had to try to stop you. It would have killed me, but I'd have had to try. Because I know you would have wanted me to."

Frodo's eyes filled with tears; a couple slid down his cheek.

"But I wouldn't have needed to, Mr. Frodo," Sam said with every ounce of conviction he carried around in his hobbit body, and he had a lot of it, whole bushels full of conviction. "And even if I had needed to, you wouldn't have made me do it. You would have seen how much it was hurting me, your Sam, and you would have come back to yourself. For me. You would have. You would have." Despite his scolding to himself, Sam started to cry.

This time it was Frodo kissing Sam's tears away. "Sam, Sam. I do believe you're right. I don't believe that I could have stood there and watched you tear yourself apart. Just in the trying, you would have saved me."

"And you w-would have saved me," Sam cried. "S-sorry. I d-don't mean to cry."

Frodo just held him as tightly as Sam held him, and they had a good cry together until Sam decided it was time to move on to something a bit more cheery. He wiped Frodo's tears away, saying, "Let’s not cry anymore, my dear. We can count it as a blessing that it didn't come to that, and as much as it sticks in my craw, I guess I have to say a thank you to Gollum for keeping it that way. And you were the one who kept him alive, so you get the credit for our happy ending, which is as it should be."

Frodo shook his head. "We get the credit, dear Sam, because, as I said before, and I meant it and still mean it from the bottom of my heart, I couldn't have done any of it without you."

They smiled at each other, and Sam felt as content as it was possible to be, despite the fact that he'd just been blubbering like a baby a few minutes ago. And even though Frodo had been crying, his eyes were bright as stars, and not a shadow lurked inside them. There was an expression on Frodo’s face that set Sam’s stomach aflutter. Frodo's hand came back up to touch his cheek, to feather a finger along his jaw line and then up to his ear.  
  
Sam's breath caught, and he fought back his desire.

There was a loud chirp from the window, and four female cardinals tittered at him, before they, in unison, tweeted, _"Kiss him, you fool!"_

And as if blinders were lifted away from his eyes, Sam suddenly understood what he was seeing on Frodo's face, and he could have smacked himself. Why for an instant had he thought that Frodo wouldn't want what he wanted? Wouldn't have traveled where his own heart had gone? "I am a fool," he said.

"What do you mean?"

"It means I love you, too," and he could hear the difference in his voice, and Frodo could hear it, too, because hope and yearning and desire all flashed across his face, all mixed together with a hint of fear. Sam couldn't stand the fear on his love’s face, so he lowered his head and met Frodo's lips with his own.

Frodo gasped, but Sam could tell it was a good gasp, a please-keep-going gasp, and that was all the encouragement he needed. He peppered Frodo's face with kisses. "I love you, I love you, I love you, Frodo Baggins."

Laughing delightedly, Frodo kissed him back. "Oh, Sam, my Sam!"

The kissing continued for a few minutes, but then Sam pulled back only to find all the cardinals watching them with very smug looks on their little bird faces. "Yes, all right," he told them. "So I'm a bit slow. I got there in the end." He abruptly sat up straight, sending five cardinals flying into the air in protest. "Oh, my pot pies!" and he shot out of bed and ran for the kitchen. Frodo's laughter followed him as he ran, and Sam couldn't keep the smile off his face.

* * *

Not long after he pulled out the pot pies, glad to see they were only slightly singed, Sam deliberated whether he should finish dinner or go back and kiss Frodo some more. Frodo solved his dilemma by coming into the kitchen, wrapping his arms around him, and lifting his face up to be kissed again.

Sam was overjoyed to do as asked, and he helped himself to Frodo's mouth, taking the time to taste him thoroughly, quite decidedly sure that no pot pie could measure up.

Frodo finally pulled away. "I'm starving."

"I'm not surprised," Sam said. "You haven't eaten enough all week to feed a, well, a cardinal." As if called, one of the birds flew in and landed on Sam's shoulder. This one he recognized. "Mr. Cardinal, I’m still not sure what you did, but I can see it made a difference. Thank you from the bottom of my heart."

_"He's not healed all the way, Sam, he might never be, but he has what he needs to get through the bad times now."_

"So is it over? Is the magic over?"

_"No, Sam, the magic is never over. We'll speak again. Every day if you want to."_

"I'd like that," Sam said. "I'd be glad of your company any time I'm out workin'."

"And you're welcome to come for dinner any time you'd like," Frodo added, a spark of mischief in his eyes.

_"Tell him thank you,"_ Mr. Cardinal said gravely. _"We might join you this evening."_

Sam had an image of fifty hungry cardinals falling on his pot pies. There wouldn't be nary a scrap left for him and Frodo. Bravely, he asked, "All of you?"

Mr. Cardinal chirped at him in that laughing way he had. _"Just me and my mate. The rest have already left."_

Grinning in relief, Sam told Frodo. "Mr. Cardinal and his missus accept your invitation."

"Really?" Frodo asked, grinning madly. "Oh, wait until I tell Bilbo about this. He'll be green with envy. Better than a smial full of moody Dwarves! Although, I do wish I understood them."

"I'll tell you every word they say," Sam promised.

* * *

And Sam was as good as his word, not that that was any surprise, Frodo thought with affection. It was so charming to watch Sam speaking so seriously with the cardinals about the weather, and the crops, and where the best seeds could be found. And Sam never spoke to them with less than complete respect, as if he had Galadriel and Celeborn sitting at the table.

At the cardinal's request, Sam opened the kitchen window so the birds could attend to the call of nature without making a mess. Frodo hadn't thought to take a look at his room, his and Sam's room now, he thought with a jubilant shiver, to see if the rest of the cardinals had been as thoughtful. Not that it mattered. There was always soap and water, and the comforter would be good as new.

For some reason that made him think of Rosie and his joy dampened just a bit. Sam, ever attentive, shot him a concerned look. Frodo touched his hand. "I'll tell you later."

Sam, looking like he might like to discuss whatever was bothering Frodo right this second, backed down when the cardinals cheeped at him, wanting his attention. An hour later, after dessert, the cardinals bid them good night and flew out the window.  
  
"That was delicious, Sam," Frodo said, patting his stomach. "You are a wonder."

"Don't think you can put me off with flattery," Sam said sternly. "What was it that put that worried look on your face?"

Frodo signed, not sure he wanted to have this conversation. Suppose Sam had forgotten Rosie in all of this and still wanted her, too? Suppose Sam had already proposed? "Well,” Frodo started, then stopped, thinking of all the ways this conversation could end so badly. He knew it was selfish, but he didn’t want to share Sam with anyone.

"I think I can take a guess," Sam offered. "Were you thinkin' about Rosie?"

In awe of Sam's constant ability to read his mind, he nodded. "I'm so sorry, Sam, I didn't even give her a thought. Her heart will be broken by all of this." And mine will be shattered if you choose her now, he added silently. His fingers nervously clasped the white gem around his neck.

"Beggin' your pardon, Frodo," Sam said with a frown, "but you're a right idiot."

Frodo heard that for the love song it was and laughed in relief.

"I knew it weren't proper to have the feelings for you I did, while I was still thinking about marrying Rosie," Sam said. "But I never thought, never imagined, that you'd feel the same way, and that makes me a right idiot, too."

"We've always been of like mind, haven't we?" Frodo asked, reaching out to clasp Sam's fingers in his.

"That we have, Mr. Frodo, no lie."

"Maybe less of the Mister now," Frodo teased, then grew more serious. "But what of Rosie?"

"She came by when you were dreaming with all the cardinals."

"Here?"

Sam nodded. "I was supposed to have supper with the Cottons and I plumb forgot." He smiled sheepishly at Frodo. "I seem to forget everythin' when I'm worried about you." He leaned across the table, over the empty plates, and stole a kiss. Frodo wished he'd steal more.

"And?" Frodo coaxed, wanting to hear the end of the story. He had a story of his own to tell.

"Well," Sam said, standing to collect the dishes. Frodo began to help, and Sam frowned at him. "I'll take care of the dishes."

"I want to help," Frodo complained. "You can't expect to be working for me, if we're going to be…" Frodo blushed. "…more," he finally blurted out. He expected Sam to be calling him an idiot again, but instead Sam was gazing at him with such a look of love in his eyes that Frodo went hot all over and his toes tingled.

Sam didn't say a word after that and allowed Frodo to help carry the dishes to the sink. Sam washed the table off, putting the butter and milk back in the cold box. As it looked as if Sam was next going to start on the dishes, Frodo took his hand and dragged him off to the living room to sit on the couch. "Finish your story," he demanded.

"I can't say I'm not sorry I hurt her feelings, because I am, and I can't say that I don't feel that whoever marries Rosie Cotton will be getting the best of wives, because it's true, but," he added, when Frodo’s heart was starting to plummet, despite the clear destination of Sam's words, "she and I both know where my heart lies, and it lies with you, Frodo, make no mistake. It always has and it always will. It weren't no contest choosin' between the two of you, even when the kissin' and such wasn't any more than a dream of mine."

Frodo closed his eyes, letting the words, like a warm mist, settle into his skin and muscles and bone. Sam was his. All his.

"That's all right, isn't it Mr. Frodo?" Sam asked, his turn to be worried. "I did the right thing, didn't I?"

"Yes, Sam!" Frodo exclaimed, throwing his arms around Sam. "Oh, yes!"

And the only talking they did for a long time was with their lips, kissing and whispering words of love, until neither of them could have doubted the other for any reason in the world.

* * *

Later, after Sam had started a fire, and made them both tea with a little snack of cheese and seed cakes, they lay drowsily in each others' arms.

Sam tugged on Frodo's nightshirt. "Are you warm enough, love?" Just this morning, Frodo had been laying ill in bed, although Sam could hardly believe it, given the last few hours.

"Very warm," Frodo said, snuggling in tighter to Sam, and Sam was glad of it.

"Would you mind if I asked you about that healing dream the cardinals gave you? It seemed to do you a world of good."

"That it did," Frodo said, pulling away just enough so they could easily look at one another. "And it did heal me in so many ways but, Sam, I'm not all healed." He touched his left chest. "I'm not sure I ever will be."

"I know that," Sam said sadly. "But I'll do whatever you need. We can go see Strider and have him tend you, because you know he would. We’ll do whatever we have to."

"And what if what I need is to leave here, Sam? What then? What if I need to leave Middle-earth and follow the Elves?"

Sam thought for a long while, trying to imagine walking away from the Shire, this time knowing he'd never be back. His heart clutched a little in his chest. "Well, I think it might be the second hardest thing I'd ever do, but I could do it if I had you by my side. Because the first hardest thing would be losin' you, and that's a fact."

Frodo put his head down on Sam's shoulder, and they sat there, listening to the fire pop and crackle, and the twitter of birds outside as all of nature settled down, or riled up, for the night.

"They took me flying with them," Frodo said suddenly out of the silence. "And Sam, oh, Sam, it was so real. We flew all over the Shire and then they flew with me to Amon Sûl."

Sam jerked at that, angry, feeling as if the cardinals had betrayed his trust. "Why did they take you to that wretched place?"

"To show me that it was alive again," Frodo said, stroking Sam's arm to calm him. "And it was. There were animals roaming about, and green trees and plants growing out of every crevice. And there were men there, around bonfires, laughing and singing. It hurt at first, seeing it, but then it was, well, it was wonderful. It was wonderful to see it all healed and full of life."

Sam shifted them so he was more fully holding Frodo, Frodo’s back against his chest, not wanting to dwell on their last time there, chased there by the Nazgûl, where all of them almost lost their life, would have if not for Strider, and where Frodo got hurt by something so evil, he might never fully recover. "I don't like to think of that place," was all he said.

"Neither do I," Frodo agreed, "and yet it was good to see it again and replace those awful memories with something better, something whole." Frodo clasped his hands over Sam's, which were lovingly crossed over his stomach. "Sam, we did that."

"I don't take your meaning."

"We did that, we brought it back alive." He turned to Sam. "The cardinals taught me that I had three wounds that were eating away at me. The one where I was stabbed by the Nazgûl. One where Shelob bit me."

"What was the third?" Sam asked, appalled he didn't realize Frodo had gotten hurt again. Then he remembered, feeling silly for forgetting. "Your finger?"

Frodo huffed out a laugh. "Funny, I hadn't even thought of that." He held up his four-fingered hand. "Strange how this one is the most obvious, but the one that hurts the least. No, Sam, the third wound was inside me. I was--" Frodo bit his lip, holding Sam's hands tightly, "Sam, I was lost in hatred, for myself. It was eating me alive."

"Hatred? For you?" Sam couldn't conceive of it.

"Yes. For you see, all I could see of our entire ordeal was that I failed. After all of that, after all we went through, after everything I put you through, at the very end, when it counted most, I failed. And losing the ring just made it worse, spreading the poison of my self-hatred deeper and deeper."

Sam opened his mouth to argue as long as it took to change Frodo's way of thinking.

Frodo put his fingers on Sam's lips. "There's no need to jump to my defense, dear Sam. That's what the cardinals showed me. That we did it. Yes, we had moments of weakness, and temptations, but we did it. We got that ring to Mordor and destroyed it. And yes, everyone else was fighting as well, but the enemy could not have been vanquished if the ring had lived on."

Sam's eyes welled up, but he didn't say anything, sure Frodo had more to say.

"Now when they sing songs about us, or praise us, I can tell the truth, which was, "Yes, Sam and I did it. Me and you. Together. Because we did. I see that now. I suppose the truest thing to say would be me and you and Gollum did it, though," he added with a grin.

Sam scowled at him. "That might be true, but it weren't but greediness that got him to help out at the end. But you had the right of it to keep him alive. Because help he did, as much as it pains me to admit it."

"I pitied him so, Sam. All I could see when I looked at him was what I might become if I had the ring for too long."

"Never!" Sam avowed. "You would never turn into that. He was a thievin' and murderin' bit of no good right from the very start. Hard to make good out of bad, that's what my gaffer always says."

"He was consumed with want for the ring, and I wasn't far from it. If not for you, Sam, if you hadn't jumped into the water and made me come for you, if I had had to take this journey on my own," Frodo shook his head, "I'd have succumbed to its lure, and I'd be in its grasp right now, perhaps we all would be."

"You give me too much credit. I saw what that hateful thing did to you, and I saw you fight it every second of every day, and sometimes all night long, too. I saw it. You tried to hide it, but you can't hide much from me, not from your Sam. I just helped you along, Mr. Frodo, you had the worst of it."

"We might just have to agree to disagree on that," Frodo said with a loving smile. "The cardinals had the right of it, we belong together, and we are much, much stronger together than we are apart. There is a bit of magic in that, I think." Frodo yawned. "I don't know quite what to call you as I’m sure you’d argue if I called you a magician, but there’s no denying that you being able to speak to cardinals so they were able to take me on a wonderful flight to fix something that so needed mending, is quite a lot of magic."

“You may call me anything you like, although magician is much too grand a word for the likes of me," Sam said, giving Frodo a squeeze. "And I think I'll call you my everything, as that just about sums it up,"

"How about just my Sam?"

Sam's heart did a flip of joy at that, knowing he'd be Frodo's Sam from here on out, with no one and nothing getting in between them. "That sounds just about perfect. But, if you don’t mind me sayin' it, you look like you're gettin' tired."

"I am, but it's a good tired, and I do believe I'll be able to sleep, which is a lovely feeling." Frodo stood and stretched. "Sam, I know this sounds forward, and I don't mean anything by it, but would you sleep with me? I can barely stand to let you out of my sight."

"It is a bit forward of you," Sam said with a broad grin, "but I think I can recover from the shock. And I'd be just that glad to keep you close all night. But just sleepin'. I intend to take my time doing the rest of it, if that's all right with you. A thing worth doing is worth doing right, and I plan for it to be done right."

"You sound experienced," Frodo said with a small pout.

"None of that," Sam said. "There's naught been anyone for me but you in every way that counts. We'll learn together as we go." He leaned in and kissed Frodo quickly, then a little more slowly, pulling him close and holding him tightly.

When they parted, Frodo said, sounding a little shaky, "Somehow I think we'll muddle through just fine, Sam, if your kissing is any example."

That got Frodo another kiss, and Sam could have stood there all night kissing, but it wasn't getting Frodo any closer to bed, and he'd said he was tired. "Go on and get ready. I'll just get the dishes done and get things ready for first breakfast."

"You take too good care of me."  
  
"No such thing," Sam said sternly. "I'll be right along."

Frodo yawned again and made for the bathroom for his ablutions, while Sam went to the kitchen to take care of the dishes. When he got there, despite the darkness, Mr. Cardinal was sitting on the birdfeeder staring in.

"Good evening," Sam said to his visitor.

The cardinal dropped the sunflower seed he'd had in his beak. _"Good evening."_

"Now that you can talk to me, is there anything in particular you'd like in the bird feeders?" Sam moved to the sink and turned on the water.

_"No, Sam, you do a fine job."_ The cardinal flew in and landed on the counter. _"Frodo? Is he better?"_

"He is," Sam said with a smile. "Thank you. And thank everyone else, too. He's naught healed all the way, and he may never be, but you fixed somethin' up proper inside of him, and I'm grateful. If you ever need anything, you just ask."

_"Just keep the feeders full come winter time, Sam, and we'll be happy."_

"I'd do that anyway," Sam said. "There must be somethin' I can do for you."

_"I speak for the Elves, Sam, when I say there will be more magic, and all you must do is keep your heart open."_

"Frodo's more the magic one than me, but I'll do my best. I reckon if it's Elven magic, it won't mean no harm, and if it's more like what I saw today, I'll welcome it with open arms."

_"Hi, Sam!"_ came an excited chitter, and Sam glanced at the window to see a fat chipmunk sitting there.

Sam let out a surprised laugh, saying, "There's some of the magic right there, Mr. Cardinal. The trees are going to talk to me next, just like they did to Merry and Pippin."

"I could hear you talking away in here, Sam, telling secrets without me!" Frodo interrupted, a merry laugh in his voice. "And look, you've got a new friend."

"And he's as chatty as the cardinals," Sam said, "calling my name out good and clear. How I do wish you could hear them."

"I get almost as much pleasure out of hearing you speak to them, and I know you'll tell me what they say."

_"Hi, Frodo!"_

"That's the chipmunk there saying good day to you," Sam told Frodo.

"Tell him good day right back," Frodo insisted.

"I think they can understand you well enough, so you can tell him yourself."

"Well, then, hello there, Mr. Chipmunk. Or is it Mrs. Chipmunk?"

_"I'm a male, male, male,"_ the chipmunk said. _"And the nuts on the mallorn tree are delicious, delicious, delicious!"_

"He's quite taken with the nuts on the _mallorn_ tree," Sam told Frodo with a grin. To the cardinal he asked, "Will every animal that's eaten of that tree show up at my doorstep wanting to join us for tea or supper?"

_"It's quite possible,"_ the cardinal said. _"That tree has some very strong magic on its own, combined with the dirt Galadriel gave you, and the love you poured into it, it might be the most magical spot in all of Middle-earth."_

"My, my," Sam said, "Great glory, and right here in the Shire." He clasped Frodo's fingers. "I think that tree will be giving us plenty more surprises." When Sam had some time, he was going to the tree to have a chat with all its inhabitants. Maybe the magic would tell them if there was a cure for Frodo's wounds. At this point, Sam wouldn't be surprised if a rattlesnake slithered up to the door, its rattles wrapped around a jar of salve.

Frodo looked like a child on their birthday that had just been handed everything they ever wanted. Sam could have stared at him all night, his hair tousled from their kissing, lips red and slightly swollen, eyes wide and sparkling with good humor and delight. The wonder of the day, the speaking cardinals and chipmunk, the dreams, everything, paled in comparison to Frodo's beauty, looking hale and hearty.

Sam forced his gaze away and put it back on their guests. "Please let me know if I can do anything for you, any of you, but it's time for Frodo to get some rest. I'll be in the gardens tomorrow if you want to come visitin'."

_"I'll be there!"_ the chipmunk cried, scampering about on the window sill as if his capering feet were expressing his pleasure at his newfound abilities to communicate. Then he raced down to the ground and across the grass until he vanished in the darkness.

_"There's a part of me that's nervous it will all be gone tomorrow,"_ Mr. Cardinal confessed. _"And I'll just be a normal bird tomorrow, with no understanding of man's ways, except that you come out to fill the feeder every day. Maybe our magic, this magic, was just for one day."_

"P'raps," Sam said, "but I don't believe it. That seems sort of mean, and that don't seem right magic-wise. But even if you are just a regular bird, you'll still be a beauty, and it will be an honor to keep you and yours fed."

"Isn't he too wonderful for words?" Frodo asked the cardinal, wrapping his arms around Sam from the back.

Sam didn't think he needed to translate the cardinal's agreement, and he put his hands on his face to cool his red cheeks. "Off with you now," he said, with a shooing gesture. "I'll be lookin' for you in the light of day to wish you a good morning."

The cardinal flew to his shoulder, rubbed his feathered cheek against Sam's, and then flew off.

"Alone at last," Frodo teased. "When I asked you to move in, I didn't realize I'd be getting an entire menagerie along with you."

Sam could feel his face redden even more, and it didn't help when Frodo burst into laughter. Frodo pulled away from Sam, but only to take his hands to circle around in mimicry of a child's dance. "Sam, I almost feel like I did before Bilbo's party, like life is a joy, every day to be treasured. I didn't think I'd ever feel this way again. I feel as silly as that chipmunk."

Sam felt dazzled by Frodo. "Bless me, Mr. Frodo, but there ain't words that would do you justice right now. You are a sight for sore eyes, and that's a fact."

Frodo just laughed again, and coaxed Sam into the bedroom with him. "Let's get into bed so you can hold me. I hardly think I can sleep, but all will be right with my world if I end the day in your arms."

And Sam had no intention of arguing, so a few minutes later, they were both tucked in Frodo's bed, a new comforter covering them, as the old one was in need of cleaning, and Sam very gladly held Frodo tight. Frodo giggled.

"What is it, Frodo my dear?" Sam asked.

"No one will be able to keep any secrets from you anymore. All the animals will be your spy network, telling you everyone's business."

"Oh, no," Sam said, "that wouldn't be fair. People have the right to their privacy. I might ask them to tell me if someone's in trouble; that might be all right. But I'd just as soon not know the rest of it."

"Good luck getting the chipmunks to shut up about everything. That young one seemed quite a chatterbox."

Sam snickered. "That he did. I imagine I'll only be half listenin' to him when he's prattling on, if you follow me. I suspect he'll use a hundred words when ten would do the job."

They lay there a while, both awake, occasionally kissing, watching the moon rise through the window. There was an occasional chirp and the music of crickets and the frogs croaking down by the creek.

"How did this happen?" Frodo asked in amazement. "How did this day start so dark and sad and end like this? It feels a bigger miracle than finding ourselves alive after Mordor."

Sam kissed the tip of Frodo's ear. "I don't rightly know. But I'm glad of it," he said fiercely. "And no one deserved some happiness more than you. No one."

"No one except you," Frodo corrected.

Sam squeezed him. "I got all the happiness I can ever hope for right here."

There wasn't much to say after that, and their breathing evened out as they slipped off to sleep together.

* * *

Frodo woke up the next morning, blinking against the sun. He yawned, feeling more rested than he could remember. Stretching a hand out, he turned his head when he realized Sam was gone, and found himself nose-to-nose with a chipmunk. "Why, hello," Frodo said with a grin. "Where's my Sam gotten to?"

The chipmunk ran over Frodo, leaped to the bedside table, to the window sill, and crouched there looking outside, to Frodo, to outside, to Frodo.

Frodo laughed and sprang out of bed, moving to the window to see what had so interested the chipmunk. When he saw what was outside, he burst into laughter. "Why, Sam! Hello to you and all your friends!"

Sam was outside in the garden, attempting to weed. There was already a basket next to him full of harvested vegetables. He had a cardinal on one shoulder and a blue jay on the other, and what looked to be two, no, three finches on the top of his head. Frodo started counting. There were three rabbits, all of them munching on asparagus spears Frodo would never see on a dinner plate, six chipmunks, a red deer, and about twelve other birds rooting around in the dirt for food.

Sam shot Frodo a look, half enchanted, half disgruntled. "We'll be eaten out of house and home, Mr. Frodo, and that's the truth."

"We've got plenty to spare. Besides, soon as you think of it, you'll be planting a garden just for them."

Sam's eyes lit up at the idea.

Laughing again, Frodo said, "I'll start making breakfast, so say good bye for now. Despite the wonder of it all, I'll expect to have you to myself now and again."

"I'll come make breakfast, Mr. Frodo," Sam said, standing, resulting in a solid scolding from the birds he'd unsettled. "Sorry, sorry," Sam told them.

"I'm perfectly capable of cooking breakfast. Not as well as you, true, but I know how to fix an egg, and less of the mister, Sam. I'm not your master anymore."

"But I like to take care of you," Sam said, approaching the window only to lean in for a quick kiss.

"And I like taking care of you," Frodo said back. "What about that, Mister Gamgee?"

"Then I think we'll be a couple of hobbits who want for nothing," Sam said with a broad grin.

All six chipmunks were suddenly on the window sill chittering at Frodo. Frodo watched them for a moment then glanced up at Sam, eyebrows raised.

Sam chuckled. "They're telling you about the garden. They're very excited about it."

"I get the sense they're somewhat preoccupied with food," Frodo said, smiling.

"That they are," Sam agreed. "And I'm thinkin' the cardinals and the rabbits got the lion's share of the magic, if you follow me."

Frodo giggled at that. He watched as, now that they'd shared their delight with Frodo, the chipmunks scampered off, straight back to the garden. "Being on a first name basis with you seems to be sufficient permission to make your garden, theirs."

Sam followed them darkly with his eyes as they started in on the mushrooms. "I was plannin' on using those Bamfurlong mushrooms in a stew tonight."

"Well, go rescue a few, and then come have breakfast." This time Frodo stole a kiss. Sam brightened and took the time to kiss Frodo good and proper leaving him in a daze. Frodo watched dreamily as Sam gently shooed a couple of chipmunks away to pick some mushrooms.

Feeling good enough to kick up his heels in joy, for Sam, for the magic, for the new strength running through his veins, for all of it, Frodo headed to the kitchen with a grin on his face. He had no idea what the future held for him, but one thing he was sure of, he'd have Sam by his side.

And probably a cardinal or two, or three. And rabbits.

The End


End file.
